


A Prize for Oikawa at the Winter Training Camp

by KaiserWashington



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Insecure Oikawa Tooru, Kageyama Tobio & Oikawa Tooru Friendship, Kageyama is a Bro, Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou Friendship, Kozume Kenma & Oikawa Tooru Friendship, Light Angst, M/M, Mentioned Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa Tooru-centric, Protective Kageyama Tobio, Romance, Shy Oikawa Tooru, Slice of Life, Training Camp, Vulnerable Oikawa Tooru, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-03-07 17:38:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18877993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiserWashington/pseuds/KaiserWashington
Summary: Karasuno hosts a training camp with Nekoma and Fukurodani during winter break, just before the spring inter-highs. At Iwaizumi's request, Kageyama invites Oikawa, who has been overworking himself studying for entrance exams. Oikawa has mixed feelings about accepting, especially when he becomes captivated by a certain spiky-haired middle blocker.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The only part of this I cringed at is the summary. I don't normally do romance or multi-chap, and this is both, so wish me luck. I'll add more tags and characters as they appear in the story.

**A Prize for Oikawa at the Winter Training Camp**

**Chapter 1**

Kageyama was not sure if Oikawa would respond to his text. He scrolled through several weeks of “Hey”s, “Oikawa-san”s, and “It’s me, Tobio-chan, in case you got a new phone and lost your contacts”s and would have believed that his senpai had dropped off the face of the Earth entirely, but for the _Read_ notification that showed up reliably at the bottom of the thread within seconds of sending a new message.

“This must be why your girlfriend dumped you,” Kageyama mumbled.

In a fit of annoyance, he copied and pasted yesterday’s message:

_Oikawa-san, a couple of schools from Tokyo are visiting over winter break, and we’re having a week-long training camp at Karasuno prior to the spring tournament. If you’re tired of studying for entrance exams, feel free to come over and play some volleyball with us._

He was aware that this was rubbing an excessive amount of salt in Oikawa’s wound after his career-ending loss in the spring prelims, and he never would have extended the invitation, if he hadn’t run into a very flustered Iwaizumi at the grocery store last week.

“I hear Karasuno’s holding some kind of training camp?” Iwaizumi had said, knocking a bottle of milk off the refrigerator shelf in his desperation. Unfortunately, it was a glass bottle. “Do you mind inviting Oikawa?”

“Sure, but—”

“He’s overworking himself again. Winter has never been his season, and what with entrance exams being around the corner and his advisor having declared the volleyball club off limits, he’s barely holding it together.”

“Sure, I’ll try texting him, but he hasn’t been responding to any of my texts lately.”

“I’m sure he’ll come, if you invite him.”

The idea was received with a marked coolness by his team when Kageyama put it to them, but it was Hinata of all people who came to Oikawa’s rescue.

“We’ve never played alongside _Daiou_ -sama before,” he had said. “This will be a unique opportunity to learn from the best.”

Embarrassed at being lectured by Hinata, the rest of the team mumbled their assent, provided it was okay with Nekoma and Fukurodani. It turned out the two schools from Tokyo were more than eager to see in the flesh the dashing young celebrity from Miyagi, of whom _Monthly Volleyball_ hadn’t been able to get enough a few months ago—not to mention various online fora frequented by women who were entirely too old—, and it was all settled.

Kageyama’s phone lit up, bringing him back to the present.

Oikawa had chosen to break his silence with a thumbs-up emoji.

-

Kageyama was waiting by the school gates when Oikawa arrived in his Aobajohsai tracksuit, with a gym bag slung over his shoulder. It was supposed to snow later in the week, and Kageyama hoped for Oikawa’s sake that it had occurred to him to bring warm clothes.

“Yo, Tobio-chan!” Oikawa greeted. “ _Hisashiburi_.”

“Thanks for accepting the invitation, Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa gave an airy wave of his hand.

“If I hadn’t accepted, Iwa-chan would have roasted my head for Christmas.” Oikawa looked around. “Who did you say were these other two schools?”

“Nekoma and Fukurodani,” said Kageyama. “They’re both representing Tokyo at the inter-highs. Come, let’s introduce you.”

Oikawa fidgeted nervously with the strap of his bag as they walked. Oikawa, who was normally so suave and self-possessed, looked like he was being led to a job interview. It warmed Kageyama’s heart to see that he was human, just like the rest of them.

As they neared the gym, the sounds of sneakers squeaking against hardwood escaped through the open doors and into the night, punctuated by the cries of players and the thuds of volleyballs as they struck or were struck. Kageyama became sensible that Oikawa had slowed down next to him.

“What’s the matter?”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

For a second Kageyama caught a rare glimpse of the man behind the mask. He looked tired, vulnerable, and full of seconds thoughts. It was no wonder Iwaizumi was worried.

Kageyama smiled.

“Everyone knows you’re coming, and they’re looking forward to meeting you.”

This seemed to assuage some of Oikawa’s unease.

“Please don’t smile, Tobio-chan,” he said pleasantly. “It looks creepy.”

Kageyama’s smile was replaced by his trademark scowl. He was about to avenge this insult, when a volleyball came rolling out of the gym, between the nets in the doorway, and stopped at Oikawa’s feet. What were the odds of that?

“What is the universe telling me, I wonder?” said Oikawa, gazing down at the familiar blue and yellow face of his childhood dreams.

“Uhm, toss the ball here, maybe?”

Oikawa looked up to see a spiky-haired boy standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the yellow lights of the gym. He was tall and lean and leaning casually against the doorframe with a hand on his hip in a manner that reminded Oikawa of a model. Quads and calves bulged with lean muscle under a pair of red gym shorts, and a charcoal tee shirt rippled over what could only be a set of perfectly defined abs.

“I’m Kuroo,” said the silhouette. “Kuroo Tetsurou.”

Oikawa bent to pick up the volleyball, eyes glued to Kuroo’s stunning body.

“Pleased to meet you,” said Oikawa, tossing the ball in Kuroo’s direction unconsciously. It wasn’t the most graceful toss. Kuroo had to lunge forward to catch it, causing Oikawa to flush with embarrassment. “I’m—”

“I know who you are.” Kuroo grinned, recomposing himself. All that was visible of his face against the gym lights were his white teeth and the one eye that was not obscured by his wild bangs. Now he reminded Oikawa of a pirate. “You’re the one they call ‘ _Daiou_ -sama’, right? Likes milk bread. The one women of all ages are crazy about. Am I right?”

Oikawa’s face turned red.

“Oikawa-san,” said Kageyama. “Why don’t we go put your things away and grab some dinner at the cafeteria first?”

He did not understand what was going on but was able to read the atmosphere sufficiently well to tell that a diversion was necessary.

It was in perfect silence that Oikawa tore himself away from Kuroo and followed Kageyama to the sleeping quarters.

Kageyama had never seen Oikawa so lost for words.

-

“It isn’t much, but there are some pork buns and onigiri, courtesy of Takeda-sensei,” said Kageyama, turning on the lights in the cafeteria. He turned to Oikawa and started. Oikawa, with hands thrust deep in his pockets and eyes directed down at his shoes, looked like someone who had lost his entire fortune in the stock market. “Is everything okay?”

Oikawa sniffled.

“I don’t know if I should have come.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if I want to be around people right now.”

“Is everything okay?” Kageyama repeated.

“Who was that guy we just met? Kuroo?”

“Kuroo-san. He’s Nekoma’s captain and middle blocker.”

“He doesn’t like me very much, does he?” said Oikawa bitterly.

“He’s like that at first, but he’s all right.”

“I don’t think anyone here likes me very much, especially your school. I don’t know if I want to deal with that right now, on top of everything else.”

“Eat some food. You’ll feel better.”

Kageyama did not know how he had gone from being afraid of Oikawa to being almost protective of him. It had happened suddenly after the spring tournament prelims, and Kageyama was thankful that it had. In the brief time since then, they mended their relationship, and Kageyama learnt that under his flashy exterior Oikawa was a kind-hearted boy who just wanted everyone to like him. He was determined that Oikawa shouldn’t have other than a good time this week, even if he had to fight all three schools to make it happen.

-

“Your _Daiou_ -sama seems to have arrived,” said Kuroo as he headed back into the gym, spinning the volleyball on his finger as if it were a basketball. Practice had ended, and players from all three schools were toweling off and recovering their energies prior to cleaning up. “Kageyama-kun took him to the cafeteria, I think.”

“Ooh, _Daiou_ -sama!” Hinata jumped off the bench, throwing the towel off his shoulders. “I’m going to be the one to beat him today.”

“We’re done for the day, _baka_ ,” said Tanaka. He turned to the other first years. “Yo, first years, your senpai is letting you shower first today, so make it quick.”

“What did you think of him?” asked Kenma, shuffling up to Kuroo.

Kuroo raised an eyebrow.

“ _Daiou_ -sama, you mean?”

“He has a name, Kuro.”

Kuroo scratched his head.

“Honestly, I don’t get what the fuss is all about.”

“Then why are you blushing?”

“Shut up, Kenma.”

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like Oikawa, and I like Kuroo, so this seemed the logical thing to do. I also like the idea of Kageyama being a bro to Oikawa and Oikawa showing his vulnerability to his kouhai. I will most definitely expand on their friendship in future chapters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I didn't want this to get too schmaltzy, but at the same time I wanted to show more of Oikawa's vulnerable side. I started watching Haikyuu fairly recently, and I've already grown really attached to him as a character.

**Chapter 2**

Shortly after Karasuno had qualified for the spring inter-highs Kageyama received a text message from Iwaizumi asking to meet at a French café near both their schools. Puzzled, Kageyama went along, only to find Oikawa sitting at a table next to the window with a sour look on his face and no sign of Iwaizumi.

“I suspected it was a set-up when Iwa-chan was being more than usually tardy,” said Oikawa when his eyes fell on Kageyama. “This, however, is low even for him.”

Kageyama sat down across from Oikawa.

“Iwaizumi-san asked me to meet him here,” he said. “Are you waiting for him, too?”

“Iwa-chan is not coming,” said Oikawa. He gave a moody “hmph”. “Knowing Iwa-chan, he probably wanted me to wish you luck and make nice with you before I headed off to college. Sentimental Iwa-chan…”

Kageyama blinked in confusion. He had never known Iwaizumi to be sentimental. Perhaps Oikawa was mistaken.

“Since we’re here, I’m going to go ahead and order something,” said Oikawa. He accosted a passing waitress with a dazzling smile. “ _Sumimasen_ , Fukiko-san, can I get a sweet crêpe with extra Nutella and a double espresso, please?”

Kageyama marveled at Oikawa’s smoothness. He never even saw him glance at her nametag.

Fukiko-san blushingly took down Oikawa’s order and then turned to Kageyama.

Flustered, Kageyama blurted out, “The same for me.”

He regretted it instantly. He had never had a crêpe before, so he had no idea what to expect, but the effect of caffeine on his body was something that he knew only too well. To say that he was in for a rough night would be putting it mildly. A concern for propriety was all that prevented him running after Fukiko-san and canceling his order.

Very little passed between them in the way of conversation until Fukiko-san returned ten minutes later, preceded by the sweet smell of warm crêpes that, on further reflection, Kageyama realized he did not have the means to pay for. He knew he should forego the meal, given the state of his finances, but when his stomach gave a loud grumble, his scruples began deserting him.

Oikawa studied him coolly.

“Tobio-chan can’t pay?”

Nothing escapes him, Kageyama thought with irritation and a touch of awe that he couldn’t help.

“No,” he admitted.

Oikawa sighed.

“I’ll pay for you this once.”

Kageyama debated doing the polite thing and declining, but he didn’t know that he wouldn’t starve to death by the time Oikawa repeated the offer, and he certainly didn’t want to risk Oikawa withdrawing it, which he knew he was more than capable of.

“ _Arigatou gozaimasu!_ ” he said hurriedly and attacked his crêpe.

“Karasuno practicing hard?” asked Oikawa, cutting his crêpe into small pieces with restraint and finesse.

Kageyama, who did not know his way around a knife and fork, looked up with half a crêpe hanging out of his mouth and Nutella smeared across his upper lip.

“Of course,” he said, swallowing bravely. “We’ll be up against teams as strong as Shiratorizawa and Seijoh at the nationals, so we can’t afford to slack off.”

“As strong as Seijoh, huh?” said Oikawa. There was a bitterness in his voice that could not be attributed merely to the double espresso, which was stronger than anything Kageyama had ever had. “Maybe if you’d come to Seijoh…”

Shit, thought Kageyama. He felt like a chess player who has been checked. No matter how he finished that sentence, it would sound like an insult to Oikawa. “If I’d gone to Seijoh, Seijoh might have won”—implying that Oikawa was not good enough to lead Seijoh to victory; or “If I’d gone to Seijoh, Seijoh might still have lost”—implying that Kageyama was not good enough and Oikawa didn’t even factor into the equation. Of course, there was still a third option, which was the one Kageyama ended up picking as he continued chewing on the remainder of his crêpe, even as it reduced to liquid in his mouth.

“Look, Tobio,” said Oikawa, setting down his utensils and looking Kageyama in the eyes for the first time that afternoon. “I know things haven’t always been great between us, and the deliciousness of the crêpe may at least partly be responsible for what I’m about to say, but I guess Iwa-chan is right. There’s no need for me to be jealous of you.”

“Jealous of me?” Kageyama was surprised. What reason could the great Oikawa Tooru have for being jealous of little Kageyama Tobio?

“I’m not naturally gifted at volleyball like you, so it was never going to be a thing for me after high school, or college at the latest. I was never going to play professionally. You might say I’ve reached the limits of my game. You, on the other hand, will only keep growing. You may even become a star one day. I have no business getting in the way of that. But still…” He drew a shaky breath and began folding his napkin over and over into triangles, as if occupying himself with that meaningless activity would hide the fact that he was holding back tears. “It would have been nice… just once… if I could have played on the national stage during my three years in high school.”

He cleared his throat and dabbed the corners of his eyes with his napkin while pretending to wipe his mouth.

“Tissue?” said Kageyama, holding out the box of pocket tissues that he always kept on his person, recalling the scene from their last game together in junior high, in which Kitagawa Daiichi had lost crushingly to Shiratorizawa in the regional finals.

This time Oikawa accepted it.

-

Oikawa smiled at Kageyama as players from all three schools began percolating into the cafeteria, the swell of voices echoing all the way down the hallway. It was one of his rare genuine smiles, but at the same time it was a nervous smile. “Help me,” Oikawa seemed to be saying.

Kageyama cleared his throat.

“ _Mina_ -san, Oikawa-san is here.”

He didn’t make any special effort to project his voice, but Daichi, ever the punctilious host, had already noticed and was striding up to Oikawa with a wide smile, hand outstretched in front of him.

“Good to see you again, Oikawa,” he said.

“Your handshake is as strong as ever, Captain-kun.” Oikawa smirked, squeezing Daichi’s hand with equal force, determined not to wince.

Sugawara stepped forward on Daichi’s heels, respecting some unwritten pecking order in this murder of crows, Oikawa thought.

Hinata took Oikawa’s hand in both his own and gazed into his eyes, as if gazing upon an angel descended from Heaven.

“ _Daiou_ -sama,” he said reverently. “Please help me become better than Kageyama.”

Oikawa laughed bemusedly.

Fukurodani was next in line to be introduced to the ace setter from Seijoh. Bokuto, with a pork bun stuffed in his face and two more in his hands, stepped forward and thumped Oikawa on the back with a paw.

“Please, make yourself at home,” he said through the pork bun, showering the floor with crumbs.

“That’s our line,” Tanaka hissed to Nishinoya.

Akaashi apologized furiously for Bokuto.

Someone thrust a can of Sprite into Oikawa’s hand, and he sipped unconsciously as face after face passed in front of him.

“ _Yorushiku_ … Nice to meet you, too… I’m Oikawa.”

The Fukurodani faces faded into Nekoma faces as the minutes passed. Oikawa felt slightly dizzy trying to remember everyone’s name. It didn’t help at all when Lev—all six feet five inches of him—slithered up way too close to him and started messing with his sense of perspective. At one point he thrust his can of Sprite into someone’s hand instead of shaking it. (Laughter.) Then someone took away the Sprite and handed him a pork bun. (More laughter.) Oikawa’s hearing gradually faded to a dull ringing in his ears, and his field of vision narrowed to a tunnel. He was in the middle of squeezing out yet another perfunctory greeting, when he became conscious of a rooster-shaped work of topiary on his latest interlocutor’s head and suddenly became lucid.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said, still smiling stupidly.

“Kuroo Tetsurou, at your service.” Kuroo grinned.

Oikawa stood staring into Kuroo’s eyes for a good minute, frozen in the middle of a handshake. His hand is so warm, he thought unconsciously, relishing the warm roughness of Kuroo’s palm against his own, feeling the weight of his fingers. As if to tease him, Kuroo strengthened his grip, rubbing his hand against Oikawa’s. Oikawa gasped at the sensation. When Kuroo pulled away, Oikawa felt the temperature drop around him. He let go reluctantly and with a lingering sense of… some feeling that he had never felt before and couldn’t quite describe in words. A sigh might even have escaped him. He felt as if he was letting go of a part of himself.

“Your hands are soft like a girl’s,” said Kuroo. “As befits a great king.”

The words hit Oikawa like a punch to the gut. He turned away, frowning.

“Hey!” Kuroo called out, but Oikawa had contrived to put Hinata between them as a barrier.

He was in the middle of giving Hinata a sermon on receiving powerful spikes effectively, when a soft voice spoke behind him.

“Kozume Kenma.”

Oikawa turned to behold a slight youth peering up at him from under long bangs. His natural brown hair had been dyed blond to look like a pudding, and though he was in a bright red Nekoma tracksuit, he blended in perfectly with the background, save for his intense cat-like eyes.

“But you can just call me Kenma.”

He averted his eyes when Oikawa met them.

“If you hate this kind of thing, we can get out of here and find something else to do.”

“Like what?”

“Do you like video games?”

-

Oikawa arrived at Nekoma’s sleeping area in blue pajamas with glow-in-the-dark alien heads printed on them that seemed designed to prevent the wearer and those around him from ever getting a good night’s sleep.

“You like aliens?” Kenma asked in amusement as Oikawa sat down cross-legged in front of him and started rifling through the pile of 3DS games at Kenma’s feet.

Oikawa flashed him a pretty smile in response.

“It’s a funny story,” he said. “I saw an alien on TV once when I was a kid and made some perfectly innocent remark about it. From that point on, everyone got it in their head that I had a thing for aliens. Everything I got was alien themed. There was no escaping it. Four sets of alien-themed bedsheets and more tee shirts than I care to remember. My _oba-chan_ even knitted me a sweater with an alien face one year. It was kind of annoying, actually. Not the sweater, which I loved, but all the other things. Aliens are making a comeback with me now, so I guess I don’t mind them anymore.”

Kenma nodded.

“You do look a bit like an alien.”

Oikawa was taken aback, but he threw his head back and laughed.

“Ken-chan, you’re so funny.”

Kenma held out a _Sonic the Hedgehog_ game in response.

“It doesn’t have aliens, but I think this is a fun game.”

“I haven’t played _Sonic_ in ages,” said Oikawa, inserting the game card into Kenma’s spare 3DS.

Neither noticed Kuroo watching them from the doorway. He stood perfectly still, like a cat evaluating its prey.

“They get along unexpectedly well, don’t they?” said Yaku, appearing at Kuroo’s elbow.

Kuroo started.

“Yes.” Kuroo gave a small cough. “Yes, they do.”

He returned his attention to the two setters, who were absorbed in multi-player action. Kenma had never asked to play _Sonic_ with him before. His usual fare consisted of those fast-paced RPG fighting games with dragons and monsters that only a professional gamer could find appealing. Also, “Ken-chan”?

-

Kuroo was returning from the bathroom, when he ran into Oikawa in the hallway, heading the other way, with a pillow and a comforter under his arms.

He nodded and mumbled, “Oikawa.”

Oikawa glared at him in response as he passed him.

Kuroo’s heart sank.

-

“Isn’t he sleeping here?” asked Kuroo, slipping under his blanket on the futon next to Kenma. “I saw him here earlier.”

“Tooru?” said Kenma, not glancing up from his phone.

“What, you’re on a first-name basis now?”

“He was interested in hearing about the games I play.”

“You sound way too excited. And that’s not what I asked.”

“Tooru’s sleeping with Karasuno.”

“Oh… Even though there’s so many of them?”

“He probably knows them better. Did you want him to sleep here?”

“Nah, I just thought it might get a bit crowded over there, is all.” Kuroo turned away from Kenma so that the ever-perceptive Nekoma setter didn’t notice the look of disappointment on his face and draw unwarranted conclusions from it.

“I can ask him to come over, if that’s what you want.”

“You’re texting already?”

Kuroo sat up with a jerk. It was a feat that he wouldn’t have been able to achieve so easily, if he hadn’t been in possession of the rippling abdominal muscles that Oikawa had been so distracted by at their first meeting.

“Yeah.” Kenma blinked in confusion.

“Tch,” said Kuroo moodily, returning to the supine position. Kenma—shy young Kenma, who couldn’t talk to a cashier at a convenience store without Kuroo by his side—had managed to get Oikawa’s number in under an hour. Meanwhile, after his awkward quotation from Oikawa’s _Monthly Volleyball_ feature, things had only gone south for Kuroo. What was he thinking? Oikawa didn’t know him well enough—or at all, for that matter—to know that playful ribbing was part of his charm. He probably thought Kuroo was just some asshole punk. Now how was he ever going to get close to him?

“I can give you his number, if you want.”

An overwhelming urge to kiss Kenma came over Kuroo.

-

Oikawa sat alone in a dark stairwell, scrolling listlessly through some news site or other on his phone. Sendai City Gymnasium would be closed for renovations starting next month. Not that that mattered anymore.

“Oikawa-san,” said a soft voice.

It was Kageyama.

“Aren’t you coming to bed?”

“I will soon,” said Oikawa. He sounded wearier than Kageyama, even though it was the latter who had played fifteen sets today. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” he said before Kageyama could ask.

“Do you want to try talking about it?”

Oikawa hesitated but assented through his silence, and Kageyama sat down next to him. Together they sat in silence.

“I can take a joke,” said Oikawa after a minute. “The team always poked fun at me, and the mean things Iwa-chan said to me were legendary. I laughed along with them. But for some reason when _he_ does it, it makes me want to… I dunno, it makes me want to cry.”

“Iwaizumi-san?”

“ _Kuso_ Kuroo,” he said darkly. “I just met the guy, and it’s like all he wants to do is put me down.”

“That one’s always got on my nerves, too,” said Kageyama.

For some reason it irritated Oikawa to hear Kageyama say it, but he checked the sarcastic retort that was on the tip of his tongue. His friendship with Kageyama had been hard won, and it was one of the few things Oikawa had won lately. He didn’t want to ruin it with a thoughtless remark.

“ _Ne_ ,” said Oikawa, changing the subject and putting on a pleasant tone. “Whose team do I play on tomorrow?”

“Oh,” said Kageyama, as if he’d hoped the topic wouldn’t come up. “About that. All three schools want to practice for the nationals, so they don’t want to sub out any key players. But,” he added quickly, “Akaashi-san is going back to Tokyo after tomorrow. Apparently his family visits his grandparents every year around Christmas, and he wasn’t able to talk his way out of it. So for tomorrow we can take turns setting for Karasuno. After that you can be Fukurodani’s setter for the rest of the week. Bokuto-san is one of the top five aces in the country, you know?”

“I see.” Oikawa looked away. “So nobody wants Oikawa-san on their team, and I have to rely on dumb luck to get a chance to play.”

“Of course people want you.” Kageyama’s voice rose in pitch and volume as he prepared to defend his greatest rival from himself. “I don’t know why you don’t believe it. You’re one of the best players in the prefecture. Maybe even one of the best in the country, in your age level.”

“Is _Kuso_ Kuroo any good?” Oikawa asked glumly.

“He’s one of the best blockers I’ve seen. He’s probably the only one here who can stop Bokuto-san’s spikes consistently. Bokuto-san is one of the top five aces in the country, you know?”

“You said that already.” A look of dark scheming appeared on Oikawa’s face. “I will enjoy making that bastard Kuroo fall on his ass while I make service aces over his stupid face.”

That’s the Oikawa-san I know! Kageyama thought with a rush of relief.

“And when he’s not looking, I will put toothpaste in his water bottle.”

That’s also the Oikawa-san I know, Kageyama thought, with less delight.

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't often use Japanese words in my writing, so it's possible that I botched their usage in some places. Wouldn't that be embarrassing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out longer and heavier than I intended. I hope it's still engaging.

**Chapter 3**

“ _Hikari areeee!_ ” Nishinoya declared, throwing open the curtains and flooding the room with light. Instinctively, everyone withdrew under his blanket as the bright morning sun—the more intense because it was a clear day—jolted them all awake.

“Come on, guys,” Nishinoya continued, springing from futon to futon and stripping the blankets off their occupants. “The sooner we get up the more sets we’ll get to play.”

Taking the crow metaphor further than good sense would permit, Oikawa decided that Nishinoya must be the proverbial early bird whom he had spent his whole life avoiding. Iwaizumi was another. He turned away from the window and pretended to be asleep.

Nishinoya hesitated when he got to Oikawa but pulled his blanket away all the same.

“Rise and shine, Oikawa-san,” he said brightly. “When you’re playing for Karasuno, you’re family.”

That’s cheesy, Oikawa thought, sitting up and yawning. His hand flew to his hair instinctively to flatten what he was sure resembled a crow’s nest. Perhaps he really did belong here.

“ _Ne_ , Noya-chan,” said Oikawa, putting on his trademark sweet voice, though because he was still sleepy, it came out sounding more cloying than he intended. “Why is Tobio-chan the only one who’s allowed to sleep? Is it because he’s still growing?”

This touched a nerve with Nishinoya, but he smiled like a martyr and pretended to take the joke in good humor.

“Nothing like that, Oikawa-san,” he said. “It’s just that we’ve had some… experiences in the past when we’ve tried to wake Kageyama.”

As if to show that he didn’t learn from history, Hinata crept up to Kageyama on all fours.

“WAKE UP, KAGEYAMA-KUUUUN!” he shouted into his ear.

The effects of this sudden disturbance in the peace were felt throughout the room. Asahi, Daichi, and Sugawara, who had been rubbing their eyes sleepily but still showed no signs of getting out of bed, sat up as if under the influence of an electric current. Enoshita, who had been in the process of getting out of bed, ducked and ran toward the door. Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, who had been returning after brushing their teeth, collided painfully with Enoshita.

There was no reaction from Kageyama at first. He was calm as still waters. Some would describe him as frighteningly calm. Hinata, if asked how he felt right now, might compare the feeling of staring into Kageyama’s calm visage to that of being stared down by a lion. Then, before he had time to decide whether this unnatural calmness was a good thing or a bad thing, Kageyama had him pinned down on the floor and started pummeling him with apocalyptic swings of his fists.

“Don’t you ever fucking do that, you little shit, or I’ll rearrange your face so bad you’ll have to get surgery to look human again,” he roared, landing a punch after each word.

Oikawa was the first to spring to action.

“ _Yamero_ , Tobio,” he yelled, locking both Kageyama’s arms in his own from behind. “You’ll never find anyone to replace him for your godlike quick.”

Kageyama struggled feebly against Oikawa’s superior strength for a minute, before giving up and settling for glaring daggers at Hinata.

“I owe you one, _Daiou_ -sama,” said Hinata, sporting a bloody nose and the beginnings of a black eye.

“Never disturb Kageyama when he’s sleeping,” said Nishinoya cheerfully.

Tanaka accompanied Hinata to the infirmary, berating him for poking the bear.

“Thanks, Oikawa,” said Daichi. “Those two are quite a handful.”

“ _Chibi_ -chan really knows how to rile up Tobio-chan, doesn’t he?” said Oikawa. “I don’t remember him being so excitable in junior high.”

“I’m still here, Oikawa-san,” said Kageyama, slowly simmering down. “And you don’t remember because you weren’t there in my third year, when things went to shit.”

“Ah,” said Oikawa, releasing Kageyama from his hold and putting on a thoughtful expression. “That’s when you got the nickname King of the Court, huh? Thanks to that I got my own nickname, which I’m rather fond of, I must say.”

“You would be.”

“You have my permission to use it from now on when you address me.”

“As if I’d do something like that.”

The rest of Karasuno had never seen Kageyama so voluble before and marveled at the sudden reconciliation between these sworn enemies.

“Why don’t we get dressed and head to breakfast?” Daichi suggested. “Once we put some food in our bellies, we can all be ourselves again.”

The badinage continued at breakfast. Kageyama noted with a twinge of jealousy that Oikawa seemed to be getting along better with his teammates in the short time he had known them than Kageyama had managed to do in almost a year. Even Tsukishima was taking part in the conversation.

“Say, _Daiou_ -sama, what was our _Ou_ -sama like in junior high?” said Tsukishima with his characteristic smirk. “I bet he was jealous of you for stealing the limelight.”

He put a hand over his mouth daintily to draw attention to his derisive giggles.

Kageyama tightened his grip on his spoon as he tried to focus on his oatmeal.

“Tobio-chan was actually a sweet and naïve boy when I met him,” said Oikawa. Kageyama’s face burned with embarrassment. “Frighteningly talented, though. Tobio-chan, do you remember the time the coach subbed me out and you ended up winning the game? I knew then that my days were numbered.”

That’s unexpectedly candid for Oikawa-san, Kageyama thought, turning to look into his senpai’s face. Oikawa was smiling pleasantly at him, but Kageyama was the only one who would have seen the sorrow behind the smile. Neither had forgotten what had happened after that game.

“I was still far from your level, though,” Kageyama mumbled.

“That’s true,” Oikawa said pleasantly. “I’m sure that’s changed now, since Oikawa-san is no longer Tobio-chan’s rival.”

“That’s not true,” Kageyama said emphatically. “There’s still a lot that I need to learn from you.”

“Maybe you’ll get a chance today, when he plays with us,” said Daichi affably.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Bokuto and Kenma.

“Mind if I sit with you guys?” said Bokuto. Not waiting for an answer, he slid a tray bearing oatmeal, _tamagoyaki_ , fresh fruit, toast, _natto_ , yogurt, and a carton of low-fat milk onto the table next to Kageyama, who had to squeeze up against Oikawa to make room for him and his meal. “People tend to stick with their own schools at these things, which in my opinion defeats the purpose of a joint training camp. Howdy, Oikawa!”

“Howdy yourself.”

“Tomorrow’s friends are today’s foes, eh?”—doubtless referring to Oikawa’s career as Fukurodani’s setter after today’s games.

“Ever heard of eating light before a game?”

“Never.”

Kenma sat down next to Oikawa.

“My team is being obnoxiously loud today, so I figured I’d find somewhere else to sit,” he offered by way of an excuse. He began peeling a banana with efficient cat-like movements. “Your first game today is against us. Kuro’s looking forward to it.”

Oikawa’s smile became pained.

“Are you going to play setter, or are you going to choose to be a blocker instead? I feel like you’d make a good wing spiker.”

Oikawa opened his mouth but deferred to Kageyama for an answer.

“Oikawa-san will take turns setting with me,” said Kageyama.

Somehow Oikawa couldn’t bring himself to say that he would be playing setter when he was in the presence of a superior talent. Seijoh’s loss in the qualifiers still smarted.

Kenma looked from Oikawa to Kageyama appraisingly.

“If you say so,” he said. “Do you think Karasuno will be able to switch so easily between two different styles of setting?”

“Oikawa-san can click with any team he’s playing on,” Kageyama blurted out.

Oikawa gave an embarrassed laugh.

“I’m not too worried about my ability to fit in,” he said.

Kenma finished eating three quarters of his banana and then wrapped the peel conscientiously over the remainder, as if to hide the evidence.

“If you can manage to click with a team like Karasuno in your first game, then you’re even better than I thought.” He rose abruptly with his tray, like one who had mistakenly sat down at the wrong table. “By the way, Tooru, Kuro’s definitely coming after you today. Don’t forget that you’re still playing _Monster Hunter_ with me tonight, even if you lose. If you liked _Sonic_ , I think you’ll like this. I do, anyway.”

He shuffled back to Nekoma’s table, where Kuroo and Taketora were laughing raucously and in a manner that earned them no favors as Karasuno’s guests. Oikawa narrowed his eyes at Kuroo in disapprobation. Then he turned back to find Kageyama and Hinata staring at him with open mouths and a look of abject astonishment on their faces.

“Tooru?”

“ _Sonic_?”

-

Oikawa was first to serve. He locked eyes with Kuroo, who grinned and assumed a blocking stance by the net. Oikawa wished Kuroo had been in the back row so that he could have delivered the service ace over his stupid head that he had promised himself yesterday. Oh, well. He’d get a chance to do that later in the game.

Taking a deep breath, he tossed the ball into the air and took off after it like a swan taking flight. He was aware of the effect his beautiful serving form had on onlookers. Its power, grace, and precision were like nothing most had ever seen, even from more naturally talented players. What they didn’t see were the hours of sweat and toil that had gone into perfecting it. He loved hearing the gasps of awe from opponents and spectators alike the first time they saw his hand make contact with the ball at the peak of his jump and watched it shoot over the net like a comet. Before his opponents could react, the ball, deforming against the hardwood floor, would have already shot past them, forever beyond their reach.

The referee’s whistle interrupted his enjoyment of the moment.

“Out.”

Oikawa stomped his foot in frustration.

“Sorry, guys.”

Damn it, he said internally.

“Don’t mind, Oikawa-san,” Kageyama called out from the side.

Oikawa was ready to let it roll off his back, but he heard a mocking whistle from the other side of the net and turned to see Kuroo staring into the distance where the ball had rolled off, like one admiring the range of a home run.

“Whew,” he said, turning to Oikawa with a mocking grin that sent a wave of rage coursing through his body. “That could have knocked someone’s head off—if it had landed anywhere near the court, that is.”

Face burning, Oikawa assumed a defensive position as Nekoma prepared to serve, feeling as if he had already lost to Kuroo. He felt vaguely nauseated, and his thoughts wandered to the last place he wanted them to go, as thoughts will do, which was this morning’s breakfast. Perhaps he should ask to switch with Kageyama till he recovered. At this rate, he would never be on his game.

A thump on his back shook him out of his thoughts. It was Hinata. He was smiling pleasantly at him.

“That was such an awesome serve,” he said without irony. “You’ll make it for sure next time.”

Oikawa wasn’t sure how he felt about relying on _Chibi_ -chan to help him recover his self-confidence, but his words gave him the strength he needed, even if temporarily, to get under the net and toss the next ball to Tanaka. It was a textbook shot.

“Nice receive, Daichi-san!”

“Nice spike, Tanaka!”

This is weird, he thought as Tanaka, Asahi, and Daichi exchanged high-fives. Usually Oikawa was the one energizing the team, praising their plays, boosting their morale. With Karasuno he felt as if he was the one being carried. Was Karasuno that different from the teams he had been wont to play with, or was it Oikawa who had changed?

I’m not usually this quiet, either, Oikawa thought.

“Nice spike!” he called out, but it was forced.

“Nice toss, Oikawa-san!”

“It was all thanks to Oikawa-san’s toss.”

Oikawa felt vaguely guilty about the praise that came his way. He hadn’t done anything beyond deflecting Daichi’s receive. A well-placed pole could have achieved the same result.

“As you predicted, he’s having a hard time connecting with the Karasuno players.”

Oikawa turned to see the Nekoma team huddled around Kenma, getting in a team meeting between serves. Even though he knew it was only natural, he felt betrayed that Kenma would plot to use his weaknesses against him that way. He suddenly wanted to run away—from his team, from the game, from Karasuno. He wanted to shut himself in his room, call Iwa-chan, even go back to studying for the goddamned entrance exams, which had made him so sick that he had been ready to skip out on college and work at some convenience store for the rest of his life.

Pull yourself together.

He slapped his face with both hands. He knew his palms would leave imprints on his cheeks, and at any other time he might have cared how they marred his good looks.

I’m a setter. I’m supposed to be setting the tone of the game.

“You okay, _Daiou_ -sama?” said Hinata.

“I’m fine.” An outrageous idea seized him. It was madness, but if it worked, it might just be enough to make up for all his missteps thus far. “Listen, _Chibi_ -chan, how would you like to do a quick attack with me?”

Hinata’s eyes sparkled. It was as if he had discovered that he was getting what he wanted for Christmas.

“A quick with _Daiou_ -sama!”

“Not so loud,” Oikawa chided. “I can’t toss like Tobio-chan, but I can still give you a toss you can work with.”

Oikawa watched Asahi run up to do a jump serve and noted with satisfaction that his was better. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched Yaku receive the serve and send it back over the net.

Any second now.

“Now!”

Hinata was in the air before Oikawa had even touched the ball.

Shit, I’m not going to make it, Oikawa thought.

By the time Oikawa made the toss, Hinata was already on the downward trajectory of his jump, and the ball soared over his outstretched fingers and out of bounds.

“I missed.” Hinata looked at Oikawa with surprise.

“No, it was my fault.” Oikawa looked over to Kageyama. There is no way I can do what he does, he thought. He turned and smiled sweetly at Hinata. “A little slower next time, okay, _Chibi_ -chan? I’m not as skilled a setter as Tobio-chan, so you’ll have to wait for my signal before you jump.”

“Having trouble tossing to the shrimp?”

Oikawa bristled as he turned to behold Kuroo grinning smugly from the other side of the net.

“If I were you, I’d only try doing regular quicks with him,” said Kuroo. “That ultra-fast quick he does with Kageyama is not for mere mortals like us.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Oikawa snapped, turning his back on Kuroo. “ _Chibi_ -chan, let’s go.”

The next time around Oikawa and Hinata were perfectly in sync. Everyone on both sides of the net thought they would finally connect. However, instead of tossing the ball to him, Oikawa went in for a dump. It was almost perfectly executed, too, but as luck would have it, Kuroo was perfectly positioned to block it.

“Tough luck, Oikawa.”

“So close.”

Oikawa swore under his breath.

“Chin up, Oikawa,” said Kuroo. “This is only a practice game, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you have your way.”

Oikawa gritted his teeth.

He shrunk from tossing to Hinata after that and managed to make successful plays with Tanaka and Asahi and once even with Tsukishima.

Then it was his turn to serve again. This time Kuroo was in the back row. The scene was laid out exactly as he had envisioned in his daydreams. Normally he would have said something cocky to his opponent at this point, but things were way too serious for that. He had forgotten why he was so determined to crush Kuroo. All he knew was that he wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face. He wanted Kuroo to acknowledge his skill. Yes, that’s what it was. He wanted Kuroo to acknowledge him, to smile at him in a genuine way, to see that Oikawa was a serious person, worthy of his attention, adoration, and affection.

Warm hands…

What was he saying?

Oikawa shook irrelevant thoughts out of head and tossed the ball into the air, closing in on the fateful moment. He put everything he had into hitting the ball. At the moment of contact, he felt a jolt of electricity ride up the tendons in his arm all the way to his elbow, but he powered through the pain. He struck the ball, the ball made contact with the floor on the other side of the net, and then the ball was up on the mezzanine, bouncing noisily between the wall and the railing and eventually rolling to a stop. It was as if these were the only movements that occurred in the gym and everything else were frozen in time.

“In bounds,” the referee declared.

Oikawa’s elation knew no bounds.

“Yes!” he said, punching the air. “YES! Take that, _baka kuso_ Kuroo!”

He stuck his tongue out at Kuroo and pulled his lower eyelid down with a finger in a most unsportsmanlike gesture.

Kuroo tried laughing it off, but it came out strained.

“It was only one service ace,” he said. “What’s all the fuss about?”

But Oikawa’s excitement had rubbed off on Karasuno, who had only ever been on the receiving end of his jump serves. Now that they got to witness the judgement of God rain down on an enemy, they saw that it was truly a beautiful thing.

“ _Daiou_ -sama!” Hinata cried, leaping into the air as if it had been he who had scored a point just now.

“Nice serve, Oikawa!” said Daichi.

“Nice serve, Oikawa-san!” Kageyama called out from the bench, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“What a freaking serve!” shouted Tanaka. He might have pulled at his hair, if he’d had any.

Even Tsukishima was moved enough to grin and flash Oikawa two thumbs up.

“I feel weak at the knees,” said Asahi. “Maybe I should stick to doing normal serves from now on.”

Oikawa beamed at his teammates. There was no guile in his expression. The last time he had felt so good was when he had won the best setter award in junior high.

Unfortunately, that was Oikawa’s last triumph this set. Apart from a vanilla and utterly unremarkable quick with Hinata, which achieved little besides proving that he wasn’t a completely shit setter, Oikawa botched every attempt to connect with the Karasuno players. Karasuno was completely trounced by Nekoma in the first set, and Oikawa went back to feeling vaguely nauseated.

“It was a good game,” Kageyama said as they watched Nekoma and Fukurodani start their set from the bench. “You’ll do better next time.”

Even this anodyne remark stung. Oikawa threw a towel over his head to hide his face from Kageyama and balled his hands into fists in his lap. He had not only failed to make good on his resolution to beat Kuroo but had also failed to live up to the only skill he had as a setter that set him apart from Kageyama—namely, his ability to bring out the best in any team he played with.

The only thing that prevented him falling into depression was the sight of Bokuto repeatedly spiking through Kuroo’s blocks. His powerful spikes, so very like Ushijima’s, should have rekindled old resentments; instead, they made Oikawa feel a boyish awe. Bokuto’s serves were the only thing he had seen so far—with the exception of a pork bun from dinner last night that had been on the turn—that could wipe the smile off Kuroo’s face and cause a frown to gather on his brow. Kuroo was scowling deliciously now as Fukurodani forced Nekoma into a tough spot, and Oikawa couldn’t wait to toss to Bokuto tomorrow and elicit more of those frowns.

-

Tomorrow would be Oikawa’s day; today was not. Even though he had long written off his sets with Karasuno as an anomaly in his volleyball career, he couldn’t help feeling frustrated with himself. Karasuno had won zero sets with Oikawa as their setter; with Kageyama, they had won more than half. It was hard for him not to feel that the difference was one of skill rather than familiarity with the team, focus on a given day (today), or just plain dumb luck.

Oikawa spent several long minutes in the bathroom splashing cold water on his face. His arm hurt where he had strained the muscles during his jump serve. Maybe he had neglected to warm up sufficiently. The cold winter mornings really did a number on you, if you didn’t warm up properly.

He had excused himself early from dinner under the pretext of being overtired from today’s games, but the truth was that he didn’t have the face to face the Karasuno players. He had made a pathetic showing today, as far as he was concerned. Everyone must think the Great King of Miyagi was just a fancy nickname and a reputation born of exaggerations and rumors. Or perhaps Oikawa was just a has-been. There had been a time when everyone looked up to him; now he was pitied by the likes of Tobio-chan and _Chibi_ -chan.

Warm tears mixed with the cold water, but Oikawa splashed them away before they rolled down his face and completed the act of crying.

-

Kuroo was waiting outside the bathroom door with a foot propped up against the wall, like one about to mug someone.

“Good game today,” he said when Oikawa emerged.

Oikawa started but composed himself quickly and stalked off down the hallway. Karasuno’s sleeping quarters were the other way, but so at the moment was Kuroo. Doing an about-face had been an instinctual reaction to seeing Kuroo, but it meant that he couldn’t correct course gracefully. There was no helping it now. Oikawa would have to take a detour through the grounds and re-enter the building awkwardly at the other end. Inconvenient, but it was worth not having to see Kuroo’s smug face grinning at him.

“Wait up,” said Kuroo, jogging to catch up to him.

Oh, right. Kuroo wasn’t a tree, so he had the ability to give chase and foil Oikawa’s plan.

“You realize you’re going the wrong way, right? Unless you changed your mind and want to sleep with us.”

Oikawa would have ignored Kuroo completely, but Kuroo slammed his hand on the wall in front of him, blocking his passage.

“Look, man, I just want to talk. I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. Why don’t we go—”

“Don’t you get tired of being an ass?”

Kuroo scoffed.

“That’s rich, coming from you,” he said. “You’ve been acting all high and mighty ever since we met. Is the Great King of Miyagi too good for anyone who didn’t make the center page of _Monthly Volleyball_? You guys didn’t even make it to the nationals. Learn some humility.”

Kuroo knew he had gone too far the minute he said it. He had a vision of Oikawa sitting and playing _Sonic the Hedgehog_ with Kenma, and he realized that it wasn’t Nekoma he had a problem with: It was him.

Oikawa opened his mouth but decided against saying anything. He pushed past Kuroo and stormed off outside, where the remnants of a purple sunset had bathed the school grounds in its melancholy hues and a cold wind was starting to pick up. Instead of going back in he sat down on a raised brick tree ring under an old sakura tree in the courtyard.

Kuroo ran out after him.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to say that,” he said, standing in front of Oikawa. “I’m sorry.”

“Why apologize for telling me how you really feel about me?”

“Because it isn’t how I really feel.” Kuroo looked Oikawa in the eye. “I like you, okay? Like, a lot.”

It sounded casual, but if Oikawa put a hand on Kuroo’s chest he would be able to feel his heart pounding thunderously against his ribcage, as if attempting to escape.

“I just want to get to know you better, but I keep messing up, because I don’t know how to do it.”

No response from Oikawa. He was staring at a pile of dried leaves swirling in the wind at his feet.

“So that’s how I feel,” Kuroo went on. He steeled his nerves and sat down next to Oikawa, leaving just enough space between them so that Oikawa didn’t think he was coming on to him and could still feel his breath on his ear. “I want to know how you feel.”

He inhaled deeply when Oikawa did not respond.

“You know what I think? I think you like me, too.”

Oikawa scoffed. What’s it like being so full of yourself? he wanted to say, but as before, Kuroo might justifiably respond by saying that that was something Oikawa knew only too well. He could feel the heat radiating off Kuroo’s body next to him, feel his warm breath on his face. Was everything about him warm? It was all Oikawa could do not to lean against him and allow himself to be enveloped in his warm embrace.

Oikawa sniffled, but that did not prevent a few tears falling inaudibly onto the clay tile walkway, spotting its surface. He stared with contempt at the wet spots on the ground. He shouldn’t be undone so easily.

“I do like you,” he said softly. “But that only makes me sad, for some reason. I hate it.”

“Oh.” Kuroo felt something constrict inside him. He rose and bowed. “ _Shitsurei shimasu_.”

“That’s excessively formal,” said Oikawa, allowing the tears to dry on his cheek instead of drawing more attention to them by wiping them away. “I didn’t ask you to leave, you know?”

“I didn’t realize I made you so sad. I won’t bother you anymore.”

“No, wait.” Oikawa grabbed hold of Kuroo’s hand and guided him back next to him. “Please stay.”

Kuroo obeyed.

Oikawa rested his head on his shoulder.

“Please stay.”

Kuroo put an arm around Oikawa, careful not to do anything that might be regarded as presumptuous. His warm embrace was everything Oikawa had hoped it would be. Oikawa’s nostrils were tickled by the smell of Kuroo’s deodorant, his clothes, his skin. It filled his lungs, and he allowed himself to be transported by it.

-

Kageyama was heading down to the gym for some pre-bedtime practice, when he saw Oikawa and Kuroo under the sakura tree and paused. His lips curled into an inaudible “oh”.

-

Kageyama was not good at things like this. He was still hot from practice, but he knew that wasn’t why he was sweating. Oikawa had just walked in after changing into pajamas, and by a favorable concatenation of events, the two of them were the only ones in the room for the moment. Oikawa was putting his toothbrush away in his duffel bag, when Kageyama decided to seize his chance while Oikawa’s back was still turned.

“Uhm, Oikawa-san?”

“Mm?”

“I saw you outside with Kuroo-san a little while ago.”

Oikawa froze in the middle of zipping up his bag.

“Are you two friends now?”

“Definitely not,” Oikawa said emphatically. “That guy pisses me off so much.”

“I see.” Kageyama had thought not. “Then—”

“Tobio-chan.” Oikawa turned and flashed Kageyama the brightest, fakest smile he had ever seen. “If I sleep through my alarm, please wake me up for breakfast.”

“O-of course.”

-

Kuroo shuffled into Nekoma’s sleeping quarters, turning out the hallway lights behind him and dooming Yaku to a long walk back from the bathroom in perfect darkness. He kicked off his slippers without a care for where they landed and dropped onto his futon like a sack of potatoes. His spirit had left him.

“Kuro?” said Kenma probingly. “Why are you lying on your face?”

“Tired,” Kuroo mumbled into his pillow.

“Have you seen Tooru? I really thought he wanted to play _Monster Hunter_ with me.”

Kuroo pulled the pillow over his head.

“Do me a favor and just smother me with this pillow.”

“Why? Did something happen?”

“Do you remember the time I told you I liked Oikawa and tried to get close to him, but I messed up, and now he hates me, because I’m such an idiot?”

“No?”

“Oh, wait, that was now.”

Kenma looked thoughtful.

“I like Tooru, too,” he said. “When I like someone, I find that playing video games with them is a good way to bond.”

“No, Kenma, that’s just you.” Kuroo sat up and gazed out the window at the moon, like some cliché of heartbreak. “I don’t think you understand quite how I like him.”

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nishinoya's first line was a shameless reference to one of the greatest anime opening songs ever. It translates to "Let there be light", for those who weren't aware. I don't know jack about volleyball, so I really wanted to avoid writing a game scene, but it was inevitable, given the nature of the story.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, everyone, for reading.

**Chapter 4**

Kageyama didn’t need to wake Oikawa the next morning, nor did Nishinoya need to contemplate the moral dilemma of whether he was still family now that he was slated to play for Fukurodani, because Oikawa got up on his own a full hour before his alarm. Instead of turning around and going back to sleep, he got out of bed and padded barefoot between the futons, careful not to wake their snoring occupants. Putting on his Aobajohsai jacket over his pajamas and slipping sockless into his sneakers, he stepped outside into the frosty morning.

If it could be called morning. The sun wouldn’t rise for another hour and a half. Why did people like winter? The cold made your hands and feet numb. The mornings were dark. The trees were bare and ugly. Oikawa didn’t have a favorite season, but if he did, it wouldn’t be winter.

Oh, well.

He felt too restless to go back in and attempt to sleep, so he decided to brave the cold and revisit the courtyard next to the gym. He sat down under the sakura tree, even as he had sat down last night. It was darker than it had been then. He closed his eyes and replayed the key events in his head.

Sleep and time had calmed his emotions. What remained was a sense of guilt at how he had behaved to Kuroo. Sure, Kuroo had been a jerk to him initially; but then he had seemed genuinely contrite and eager to make amends. He had sat by his side and allowed Oikawa to take advantage of his offer to comfort him. He had told Oikawa that he liked him. And what did Oikawa do after his tears had dried? He told Kuroo he’d made a mistake, and please don’t talk to me again.

Oikawa sighed and drew his legs up onto the tree edging so that he could rest his chin on his knees.

“It would appear that the rumors about you being an ass are true, Oikawa-sama.”

“It would certainly appear so.”

“Fuck.” Oikawa nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned to see Kenma sitting on the other side of the tree. He was wearing a parka with the hood up. Oikawa wasn’t sure he would have noticed him in the light of day. “What are you doing up at this hour, Ken-chan?”

“I have trouble sleeping in a new place,” said Kenma. “I tried calling out to you when you were on your way over, but you were in your own world.”

“Are you sure you tried hard enough?” Oikawa said loudly. The metallic taste of panic had still not left his mouth, and he was irritated at being caught talking to himself.

“What happened between you and Kuro last night?”

“Why should anything have happened between us?” Oikawa crossed his arms over his knees sulkily.

“He told me about liking you.”

“He did, did he?”

So he must have meant it when he’d said it to Oikawa last night, and it hadn’t just been a ploy to take advantage of him in a vulnerable moment. Great, more guilt. That’s not what he needed right now.

“Are you sure nothing happened?”

Of course not. There was the uncomfortable matter of the kiss, which Oikawa had been trying desperately to erase from his memory. It didn’t fit anywhere in the sequence of events from last night. He couldn’t remember at what point in the evening it happened. He couldn’t remember who initiated it and who broke it. All he remembered was the feverish feeling of another man’s lips on his own and the surge of shame immediately after.

“Nothing happened.”

“I see.” It was obvious that Kenma knew more than he was letting on. “Kuro may seem like a confident and outgoing guy on the outside, but he’s actually not very good at this kind of thing.”

Oikawa sighed.

“So just like me, then.”

“You don’t seem like a confident and outgoing guy on the outside, Tooru.”

Oikawa nearly fell off his perch.

“Gee, thanks,” he said. “Here I thought I’d escaped detection.”

“I tend to see things others don’t.”

“That’s a bit creepy.”

“It is? Huh. Maybe it is.”

“It’s awkward talking like this,” said Oikawa. “Mind coming over here?”

“It’s less cold on this side,” Kenma returned. “The tree’s blocking some of the wind.”

“Oh.” Oikawa stood up and shuffled over to Kenma’s side, hugging his jacket tightly around himself. “No wonder I’m frozen stiff.”

Kenma looked so warm and snug in his parka that it made Oikawa feel even colder.

“Do you like Kuro?” Kenma asked.

Oikawa averted his eyes and started stammering.

“Well, uhm, I’m sure he’s not a bad guy, even though he really gets on my nerves.” He laughed nervously. “And I guess he’s not bad looking. But do I like him? Like, like him like him? Who really knows the answer to that, right? Does anyone truly know what they want from life?”

“A four-year-old could have guessed your answer from that,” Kenma said drily. “So if you like Kuro, and Kuro obviously likes you, why’d you turn him down?”

Oikawa did not answer. He looked down at the ground, where he was dragging his feet back and forth over the clay tiles, crushing dried leaves into dust.

“I don’t know him that well,” he said at length. “I guess I’m afraid that if I got to know him better, I might not like him anymore. A part of me wants to preserve my flawless mental image of him.”

“Or are you afraid Kuro might not like you if he got to know _you_ better?”

“What are you, some kind of mentalist?” said Oikawa. “Do you do undercover police work on the side?”

“I don’t think detective work is very interesting,” said Kenma. “I like zombies and monsters, though. Maybe if I got to fight some of those…”

Oikawa laughed gaily.

“You are such a funny guy,” he said. “Kuroo is lucky to have you as a friend.”

“Are you not?” Kenma gave Oikawa a shy side glance.

Oikawa blinked in surprise. He hadn’t considered that this thing he had going on with Kenma might check all the boxes for being considered friendship. Iwa-chan would be so proud.

He smiled warmly.

“Of course I’m lucky to have Ken-chan as a friend.”

Kenma counted off three on his fingers. Oikawa was not quite sure what he was counting.

“I can vouch for Kuro,” said Kenma. “He’s not fooling around. And you don’t have to worry about him losing interest in you.

Oikawa sighed.

“Where do we go from here?”

“Well, a relationship would be the logical next step.”

“No, I meant where do you and I go from here now,” said Oikawa. “It’s still a good hour before breakfast, and I can’t feel my toes anymore.”

“Oh.” Kenma looked away in embarrassment.

Oikawa regretted not going along with Kenma’s misapprehension.

“But a relationship, huh?” he added quickly. “That’ll be something.”

“You’ve been in a relationship before, haven’t you, Tooru?” Kenma turned to look at him again.

Oikawa laughed in a vaguely self-pitying way.

“Just a couple times, nothing extraordinary,” he said. “For the most part it was something I felt I had to do because all my friends were in relationships. What about you, Ken-chan? Are you in a relationship?”

Kenma shook his head.

“It’s not something I feel I have to do.”

“But you’re so cute! You don’t know what you’re depriving the world of.”

Oikawa reached out to pinch Kenma’s cheeks. Kenma leant away from him.

“Stop.”

Oikawa put his hands up in surrender.

“Would you like to play _Monster Hunter_ now?” said Kenma, producing a PSP from his pocket. If Oikawa hadn’t known better, he would’ve said Kenma had planned the whole thing from the start.

“Yeah, why not?” said Oikawa. “I already wear glasses, so it’s not like I’m worried about messing up my eyesight. And what other objection can there be to playing video games in the wee hours?”

-

 _Monster Hunter_ proved a more engaging game than Oikawa had expected. He had been excessively sanguine going in against the armored dragon boss on Level 6, despite Kenma’s warning that fewer than a hundred players in Japan were known to have beaten it. His competitive nature could not resist a fight against those odds, even when his skills at the game were sadly lacking. If there had been a prize for sticking vainly to a goal when common sense would have recommended giving up, Oikawa would have won it. He must have restarted the level thirty times and lost within two seconds each time. When Kenma politely asked to be given a shot to improve on his personal best of six seconds, Oikawa held the game out of his reach, claiming, “I’ve got it this time.” He hadn’t.

The only time they looked up from the screen was when the sun came up over the school grounds and cast its first golden rays on the walls of the classroom, illuminating posters and artwork made by students who were probably miles away from school, enjoying the break with their families. It had been Kenma’s idea to seek out an empty classroom (most were, of course, empty) on a different floor of the building, far away from where everyone slept, so that, even if they yelled and screamed, they wouldn’t wake anyone. Kenma had watched people play _Monster Hunter_ before. There was always screaming.

“Holy…” said Oikawa as his eyes adjusted to long-distance vision. “What time is it? I haven’t showered yet.”

Kenma took the opportunity to snatch the game out of his hands.

“You go shower. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

-

Oikawa was late to breakfast. Everyone else, with the exception of Kenma, who, having come as close as anyone had to beating the armored dragon without actually beating it, had decided to treat himself to a long therapeutic soak in the hot tub by the swimming pool, was already down in the cafeteria. Kuroo had gone up to the buffet table for seconds when Oikawa entered.

“Yo, Oikawa-san,” Nishinoya called out, brandishing a French toast stick from today’s Western-style breakfast between a pair of chopsticks. “Where’d you disappear to this morning?”

Kageyama moved his jacket from the seat he had been saving for Oikawa, but Oikawa’s eyes were fixed on Kuroo, and he walked straight past the Karasuno team to the buffet table, where Kuroo was painstakingly piling scrambled eggs by the morsel onto his plate, dragging out the act to give Oikawa time to reach him.

“Kuroo,” said Oikawa without any of his usual levity.

“ _Oya_?” said Kuroo, pretending surprise. “If it isn’t Oikawa-kun.”

“Can we talk?”

“If you’re having trouble choosing between the pork sausage and the potatoes, I’d go for the potatoes. The sausages are all grease and no flavor.”

“I don’t care about that,” said Oikawa impatiently.

There was determination in his eyes, and even a little hurt, which it twisted Kuroo’s heart to see. Kuroo had promised himself not to be seduced by Oikawa’s charms again, but how could he not be, when those brown eyes were boring holes into his heart?

He swallowed.

“Okay,” he said softly. “Let’s talk.”

“I made a mistake.”

“Yeah, I thought you made that abundantly clear last night.”

“I meant that _was_ the mistake,” said Oikawa. “I pushed you away when you were just trying to be there for me.”

Kuroo scratched the back of his head and laughed awkwardly.

“Well, to be fair, I was the one who said some pretty insensitive things first.”

He tilted the plate in his other hand obliviously, sending a mini avalanche of scrambled eggs rolling off it and onto the floor. Oikawa was too wrapped up in the moment to notice or care. He took a step toward Kuroo, squishing the eggs under his shoes.

“I want to do it properly this time.”

Kuroo looked around nervously.

“Here?”

Oikawa’s gaze did not falter.

“Okay, fine.”

Kuroo put a hand on the side of Oikawa’s face and leant in to give him a quick peck on the lips, turning ever so slightly away from the rest of the room so that anyone glancing their way might think that he was merely whispering something into Oikawa’s ear—probably an off-color joke, given Kuroo’s known predilection for such things.

It lasted hardly a second, but that second seemed to stretch for an eternity to Oikawa. He suddenly remembered how he’d felt last night as he’d been enveloped in Kuroo’s arms and scent, blissfully separated from the rest of the universe. It was a feeling that he hadn’t known he’d missed his entire life. His body felt weak with need. Heart pounding, he reached a hand out longingly toward Kuroo as he pulled away.

“Not now,” Kuroo whispered. “We’ll do it properly another time.”

-

Oikawa sat down wordlessly next to Kageyama. Tanaka and Nishinoya were playing a version of billiards on the table with chopsticks and some unshelled hard-boiled eggs, throwing any and all scruples about food wastage to the wind. Daichi, who was watching with a strained smile and a vein bulging in his temple, would soon suffer an aneurysm and put an end to the whole thing. Oikawa looked around. Everyone seemed absorbed either in food or in conversation. No one had noticed that Seijoh’s ace setter had been getting kissed by Nekoma’s captain at the back of the cafeteria in broad daylight.

Only Kageyama had noticed. He’d noticed, because he’d been keeping an eye out for such a thing after he’d espied the two of them under the sakura tree last night. He gave Oikawa a knowing look.

Oikawa’s face turned red, and he busied himself with quartering his steamed red potatoes.

“No meat, Oikawa-san?” said Nishinoya.

Oikawa smiled pleasantly at him.

“The sausages are all grease and no flavor,” he said. “Too much grease makes my stomach feel weird before a game.”

Nishinoya, Tanaka, and Asahi placed a hand gingerly on their stomachs in a manner that was so well coordinated as almost to look rehearsed.

“I see what you mean,” said Tanaka, looking faintly green.

“What was Kuroo-san telling you back there?” Kageyama whispered to Oikawa.

“Nothing you need to concern your pretty little head with.”

Kageyama gasped.

“Don’t tell me…” he said, turning red as a beet, “… he gave you a kiff… _kith_ … kiss.”

“Don’t choke on your cereal.” Then a little louder, “ _Ne_ , Tobio-chan, isn’t it your birthday today?”

Everyone at the table turned his attention on Kageyama. It was fruitless denying it, because he had filled out his birthday on his club application, and Daichi could easily verify it from school records, which were all stored online these days. What was more, social media was a thing, and Kageyama had made the mistake of being on it.

“Little Kageyama-kun is growing up,” said Hinata, inexplicably the elder of the two. He placed a hand on Kageyama’s shoulder.

“Gerroff me,” said Kageyama, shaking free of Hinata.

“Happy Birthday, Kageyama!” said Sugawara.

“Happy Birthday!”

“Happy Birthday!”

They launched into a horrific rendition of “Happy Birthday to You”, no two voices in the same key or tempo. Hearing this, the other schools joined in. Kageyama sank so low into his chair that all that was visible of him over the table was his mop of black hair and his black eyes underneath, glaring daggers at Oikawa.

Oikawa knew that, if Kageyama forgave everything else, he would never forgive this, as he continued singing loudest of all.

-

“ _Ne_ , Oikawa-san,” said Kageyama awkwardly, holding a small gift-wrapped box he had found in his duffel bag when he returned from breakfast to change into gym clothes. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Oh? Then I’ll be taking that back.” Oikawa reached for the box.

Kageyama held it out of his reach.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want it,” he said quickly.

He tore open the gift-wrap with eager hands. Inside was a smart watch—the kind that tracked your heart rate and calorie expenditure and advised you how to make the best of your workout—yes, advised you how to become the best setter in Japan.

Kageyama looked up at Oikawa, eyes asparkle. Words, which he could seldom rely on on a good day, failed him utterly.

“Oikawa-san!”

“That’s my name.”

“This is… this… You didn’t have to!”

Oikawa tapped his foot awkwardly and looked away.

“Settle down, Tobio-chan,” he mumbled. “If you get any more excited, I might start believing that I’m a nice person.”

“But you are a nice person!”

Oikawa reached out to ruffle Kageyama’s hair but thought better of it and thrust his hands into his pockets.

“A little nervous?” said Kageyama.

“Not at all!” Oikawa flashed him a brilliant smile.

It was a lie. He knew it was a lie, Kageyama knew it was a lie, but Oikawa’s mask stuck fast in vulnerable moments like this.

Kageyama reached out and touched Oikawa’s arm reassuringly.

Oikawa stared at him in surprise. He hadn’t known such an act to be in Kageyama’s repertoire of human actions.

Evidently Kageyama had surprised himself, because he gave an awkward cough and turned away.

“You’ll be amazing today,” he said softly. “As always.”

-

The first thing the Fukurodani third years told Oikawa when Bokuto was out of earshot was that it was essential that Bokuto believe he was the center of the team.

“He’s extremely temperamental.”

“God forbid he goes into emo mode.”

“It unlocks secret abilities you don’t want to see.”

“If that happens, stop tossing the ball to him and leave him to us.”

“We know how to handle him.”

Oikawa became sensible of a prickly sort of sweat forming on his face and arms. He swallowed nervously. What sort of monster was he dealing with?

The game started off with few surprises. Karasuno won the toss and decided to receive first, which meant that Oikawa got to kick off the game in spectacular fashion with one of his powerful serves, as was his wont. The initial reaction was the same as always, but Daichi was able to collect the ball gracefully and send it over the net.

“Free ball,” Oikawa called out.

Bokuto got into position and winked at Oikawa.

The setter’s supposed to be one giving signals, Oikawa thought; but he remembered what the third years said about making Bokuto feel as if he were the one controlling the flow of the game and ceded command of their plays to Bokuto.

The first time Oikawa tossed the ball to Bokuto and Bokuto spiked it through Karasuno’s defensive wall with all the power and inevitability of Ushijima, Oikawa was lulled into believing that this was a monster he could tame.

He has a good jump, Oikawa thought; he could do with a higher toss.

The next time around, he gave Bokuto what he thought was the perfect toss, but Bokuto went in for a line shot and hit the ball out of bounds. Kuroo roared with laughter from the sidelines.

“My bad!” Oikawa started to say. “ _Nani_?”

Bokuto fell on his hands and knees and started howling like a wounded beast.

“I am the worst spiker in Japan,” he declared. “Did you see what a pathetic spike that was? Don’t toss the ball to me anymore, Oikawa. I’m in shit form today.”

“Maybe my toss was a bit too high?” said Oikawa.

Konoha, Washio, and Sarukui were waiting in the wings to go out and play their appointed roles, but Oikawa was inexorable.

“It was definitely my toss,” Oikawa decided. “Clearly I’m not good enough to set for a team that made it to the nationals.”

“Actually,” said Sarukui, interrupting with a cough. “I think Karasuno’s defense has learnt by now that Bokuto likes hitting cross shots, so they’re trying to shut those down and limit him to line shots.”

“It was my spike.”

“It was my toss.”

The Fukurodani third years exchanged grave looks.

“Gentlemen,” said Washio. “It appears we have not one but two emos on our hands.”

Konoha and Sarukui took charge of Bokuto, while Washio attempted to gauge the extent of Oikawa’s issues.

“We’ve only just met, but we are entirely at your service,” said Washio, bowing low. “Please lead us to victory.”

Oikawa smiled bashfully and looked across the net at Karasuno. His eyes fell on Kageyama’s wrist. He was wearing the watch Oikawa had given him this morning. He felt a thump-thump building in his chest. It was something he hadn’t felt since the qualifiers: the feeling that he could actually win this thing.

Sorry, Tobio-chan, but I’m not a nice person after all.

When they regrouped, Oikawa was different. His eyes burned with the fire of determination, and he had an aristocratic air about him that compelled the Fukurodani players to follow him on an instinctual level. Even Bokuto seemed to have forgotten that he was supposed to be wallowing in self-pity.

“Bokuto-chan,” said Oikawa just before Kageyama got in position to serve. “How good is your aim?”

-

Kageyama’s jump serve was nowhere near as explosive as Oikawa’s, but his form was perfect, Oikawa noted with annoyance. A part of him was glad he had never given in and shown Kageyama how to do a jump serve in junior high: He might have surpassed him in the only area where he could still inspire awe.

“Nice receive!”

Oikawa tossed the ball to Bokuto as usual, but both sides could tell there was something different about it this time. Bokuto connected with the ball and sent it shooting over the net with a loud thwack.

“Nice save, Kageyama.”

Nishinoya tossed the ball to Asahi, who spiked it through Oikawa’s and Konoha’s arms.

Asahi, Nishinoya, and Tanaka exchanged high fives.

The next time Kageyama served, the ball hit the center of the net, spun in place, as if desperately trying to get through, and dropped to the floor, where Tsukishima’s vain attempt at saving it with his foot sent it shooting off to the other side of the court under the net.

Kageyama was dumbstruck.

“Don’t mind, Kageyama,” his teammates told him.

Oikawa smiled.

“Bokuto-chan, your aim really is amazing,” he said.

Bokuto flashed Oikawa a victory sign.

Oikawa had instructed Bokuto to aim for Kageyama with his spike. Kageyama would become alive to his watch being in harm’s way when he saved the ball and take fewer risks as a result. It was a good thing he wasn’t exceptionally bright, so it would be a couple of sets before it occurred to him to take off the watch. Oikawa hated resorting to such underhanded tactics, but he was desperate to win after his dismal performance yesterday.

In the meantime, Bokuto connected smoothly with all of Oikawa’s tosses, racking up points for Fukurodani. They had found their rhythm, and Oikawa was able to read Bokuto’s intentions and rise to the occasion by giving him tosses that allowed him to play the way he wanted to. They worked as a single unit. It almost felt to Oikawa as if it were his hand spiking the balls he tossed. And what powerful spikes they were. Oikawa was certain that if he had gone to Shiratorizawa, he would have languished in Ushijima’s shadow. With Bokuto it was different. He was probably the only person in Japan with whom Oikawa could have played on this level as equals.

Bokuto punched the air as Fukurodani was propelled to set point.

“Did you see that, Oikawa?” he said. “How does that compare to your pal Ushiwaka?”

“He’s not my pal,” Oikawa said emphatically. “In terms of power and precision, you’re about equal. But Ushiwaka is a gigantic ass, so I’d pick you over him any day.”

Bokuto’s eyes sparkled.

“You mean it?” he said. “You mean I made top three and kicked that bastard Ushiwaka down a rank?”

“Without a doubt.”

The Fukurodani third years watched the scene unfold with bemusement.

“I don’t think Oikawa’s the one who decides the rankings.”

“But at least it looks like Bokuto’s back on his game.

“And it looks like Oikawa didn’t need our help after all.”

Bokuto and Oikawa stood facing each other for a second and then exchanged a resounding high five. The only other person with whom Oikawa had shared such an intimate moment of triumph during a game was Iwaizumi.

“Let’s win this,” said Bokuto.

Oikawa’s eyes shone.

The first set ended in victory for Fukurodani.

-

Today had been Oikawa’s day, but for some reason dinnertime saw him sitting alone on the rooftop, back to the wall on the dusty concrete, gazing through the tall chain-link fence at barren treetops swaying cadaverously in the wind. He ought to be eating and having a good time with everyone else. Fukurodani, with Oikawa as their setter, had won the most sets of all three schools today. If anything, that called for a celebration. Instead, Oikawa was up here all by himself, like some broody teenager who had elevated his self-pity to an art form. Well, he was still a teenager, at least.

Yesterday he at least had the excuse of having lost all his games; today he’d won most of them. Why was he incapable of being happy for himself?

The metal door to the roof flew open, hitting the wall with a loud crash. Oikawa ducked and looked up to see Kuroo emerge with a sheepish look on his face and two plastic-wrapped sandwiches in his hands. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of him.

“That opened more easily than I expected it to,” Kuroo said apologetically.

“What brings you up here?” Oikawa managed to say, trying to sound casual but ending up betrayed by the overeager inflection in his voice.

“What brings me up here?” Kuroo sat down next to Oikawa and handed him a sandwich. “I came looking for you, of course.”

Oikawa accepted the sandwich gratefully. White bread? Ordinarily that would be sacrilege, but he was not about to make any bones about eating something even vaguely edible that had been offered him by Kuroo.

“How did you know I’d be here?” he said, pulling apart the wrapping with more violence than he wanted to betray, now that the initial headiness of being thrust into Kuroo’s presence had died down and he had gone back to brooding.

“A little birdie told me,” said Kuroo, taking a bite out of his sandwich. “Or a crow… chick or whatever you want to call it.”

“Tobio-chan?”

“The same.”

“Tch,” said Oikawa. “He really needs to give it a rest. Running around after me all the time. What is he, my mother? That role is reserved for Iwa-chan.”

“He’s being a good host and a good friend,” said Kuroo with an arch grin. “If you see your friend wander off all by himself in the direction of the roof when everyone else is heading out to eat, you don’t just sit by and watch: You send an errand boy to go fetch him.”

Oikawa sighed. Kageyama’s head had probably been filled with ideas ever since he saw him with Kuroo.

“I should have gone to dinner with everyone, I suppose.”

“Yup,” said Kuroo through a mouthful of sandwich. “They ended up going to the hot pot place down the street. Don’t bother going now. I’m sure they’ve finished everything in the house.”

“I’m sorry you had to miss it.”

“Don’t sweat it.” Kuroo waved his hand airily. “I’m sure the owners appreciated one less ravenous athlete descending on their humble establishment. Besides, I’d much rather sit here with you than watch Bokuto stuff his face at close quarters.”

Oikawa was not convinced that the sight of him struggling to eat his sandwich was much better. The cold crunch of cucumber mixed with the soggy mush of bread in his mouth and turned into something that tasted like regret. Everything seemed to taste of regret these days to Oikawa.

“I did something… not very nice today,” he said. “During the first set.”

“Are you talking about the thing with Kageyama and his watch?”

Oikawa turned to look at Kuroo in surprise.

“Bokuto told me,” Kuroo went on. “He’s been going on about how the two of you are the ultimate team and no one can beat you. Even though we did. Thrice. Anyway, on the scale of not very nice things, I’d say that’s almost insignificant.”

“What if Tobio-chan thinks I only gave him the watch so I could take advantage of it later?”

Kuroo chuckled.

“I’m sure he’s just thrilled that the Great King of Miyagi was thoughtful enough to buy him a present. Besides, both Kageyama and watch are none the worse for wear, so no harm done. Is that why you’re sitting up here all by yourself?”

“I was just thinking,” said Oikawa, sitting up and staring at the ground. “Was it all just luck? If Tobio-chan hadn’t worn the watch today, would we have won at all?”

“I don’t think you give luck enough credit for all the other things,” said Kuroo. “You’re being unfair to yourself if you chalk everything you do up to luck and everything others do to some kind of innate talent. Don’t you think it’s partly luck that Kageyama-kun found someone like the shrimp to do his godlike quick with?”

“They didn’t tell me you were so deep,” said Oikawa, not the most impressed that Kuroo had decided to bring reason to his pity party.

Kuroo sat up so that he could look Oikawa in the eye.

“Do you like me less for it?”

His eyes were so warm and inviting.

“No,” said Oikawa. His voice was barely a whisper.

He didn’t notice Kuroo’s hand inching toward his on the ground until it was on top of it. Then he felt a familiar tingle ride up his spine, and his heart started pounding. It’s happening, huh?

“Maybe it’s lucky you decided to come up here this evening,” said Kuroo, breathing heavily as he closed the distance between them.

For a couple of seconds Oikawa’s highest priority was making sure he had swallowed all of his sandwich. He ran his tongue furiously along the inside of his mouth, clearing away anything that stuck to his teeth but stopped caring the moment Kuroo’s lips touched his and gave himself up entirely to luck, which seemed to be on his side today.

This time they did not have to worry about being seen.

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It hadn't occurred to me when I wrote the last chapter that they might have kissed under the sakura tree, but when I started writing this chapter I realized that that would be a most logical explanation for their brief fallout. As a result, I have alluded to a scene that I never actually showed. You may have heard of the old piece of writer's wisdom "Show, don't tell" that is often imparted to newbie writers who may be tempted to do the opposite; in this story I have demonstrated that it's possible to not show and not tell, with predictable results.
> 
> I love writing Kenma.
> 
> Apparently sunrise in Sendai City is around 6:50 AM on December 22 (Kageyama's birthday), which would mean that Oikawa woke up around 5:20 AM. There is no one on Earth whom this knowledge benefits.


End file.
